


How To Breathe Under Water

by Icanseenow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Drowning, Fainting, First Kiss, M/M, Near Death Experiences, POV Sam Winchester, Sam's Terrible Life, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanseenow/pseuds/Icanseenow
Summary: Sam is trapped in a room that's slowly filling with sea water. Magically bound in place, he's helpless to his certain fate of drowning.But when Castiel appears to rescue him, he finds a way for Sam to breathe under water. As long as they're together Sam is safe.Cas' unusual methods leave Sam struggling with some unexpected feelings.





	How To Breathe Under Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tsuki678](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuki678/gifts).



 

When his shoes start getting soaked, Sam's not worried yet. His jeans are getting heavier and heavier. They're trying to slip off his waist, the belt working hard against the force of gravity. Not too far from where Sam's bound against the rusty pipe, he thinks he sees tiny fish swim past him. Despite the dire situation, he's still confident that Dean will burst in any minute, and save him. 

The minutes pass with nothing but the sound of whooshing keeping him company. Dean’s nowhere to be seen. The water has reached Sam’s shoulders. All the wriggling and moving against the pipe has resulted in nothing but pain and frustration. It’s now, that Sam starts worrying. 

It's too dark in here to see much, but he knows a few things about the tiny enclosed space he’s in. It's a bunker-style room in the basement, a part of an old warehouse with no windows and only that one door he got it. In a normal world there’d be nothing to connect this space to the ocean. Yet, here he is, soaking in sea water. Fucking witches and their powers. 

Sam points his nose at the ceiling. He’s tip toeing, trying to not breathe through his mouth, but the water's coming too fast. 

He's not sure why he does it, when he shouts Dean's name. If his brother were anywhere close, he'd have found Sam by now. There is no way Dean or anyone else can hear him. 

The salt water seeps into his mouth, he splutters and tries to keep calm. But a part of him knows: this is it. He's actually going to die on a simple case. Well, die again. He doubts there's anyone left right now between heaven and hell who'd resurrect him.

So he's going to drown in his mid-30s and actually stay dead for once. He realizes, he doesn't care about the being dead part, as long as he's going to hell. He’s feeling queasy about heaven, considering the mess up there. But he wouldn’t say no to an actual ending. A final curtain on his life, no more back and forth, no more being a pawn in someone else’s stupid game for power. Being at peace with the world sounds marvelous.

But then Sam thinks of Dean again. He imagines him alone in this world again. Finding camaraderie in a bottle instead of in his little brother… and Sam knows he can't do it. He can’t die now, can't leave Dean on his own again.

Besides, this kind of dying takes ages and Sam would rather avoid the pain.

The water is already past his nose now. He tries to jump. There's still some room between him and the ceiling, but magic binds him to the pipe. The material is old and porous. In theory it should break apart, but it doesn't budge one bit. All the moving around just makes it so much easier for the water to get in his nose and mouth.

Sam is simultaneously spitting out water and breathing in more, when Castiel appears. 

"Cas!" Sam tries to shout, but it comes out as a mere incoherent splutter of water and sound.

"Don't worry, Sam."

Relief floods Sam's body, as the water keeps flooding the room. Castiel, in his suit and with a determined look on his face, half walks half swims towards him. His tie is trawling behind him like a celestial naval ensign.

Sam can’t remember ever feeling so much like a damsel in distress, but he can't bring himself to care. He's too happy

Castiel is with him in a second. He puts two fingers to Sam's forehead - by now the top of Sam’s head is the only part of him not submerged by water.

Nothing happens, as Castiel digs his fingers deeper into the skin.

"I don't understand," Sam hears him say, and the panic returns full force

Castiel frowns. "Why won't it let me transport you?"

"Witches," Sam tries to say. "I'm bound here by magic." Nothing comes out of his mouth but air bubbles.

Castiel tries to pry him from the pipe with his hands. He ducks and dives, looking for a way to free him. Deep down, Sam knows already, that there is nothing Castiel can do for him. He watches Castiel swim around him in circles to no avail. It’s calming having him here, even though Castiel himself is anything but calm.

Why is Castiel so panicked? He should stop and stay with him. He should join Sam, listening to the deep sound of drumming that he vaguely recognizes as his own pulse in his ears.

And - oh no. He remembers. He's actually drowning. While an angel, and more importantly his best friend, is swimming around him aimlessly. He’s suffocating, while Castiel is watching him die. Somehow, that's worse than dying alone. Causing his friend distress and not even being able to offer any consoling.

On the other hand, Sam thinks: At least it’s not Dean having to watch him die again. At least Sam’s last moment on earth isn’t filled with disappointing Dean yet again. Sam might not be the only one responsible for the situation he finds himself in, but it sure feels like it's his fault. He’s the cause of Castiel’s terror-stricken face.

Sam's eyes hurt against the murky water. It’s a relief to close them, to block out what is happening to him. He swallows more water and coughs, swallows and coughs. The sensation of the water entering his lungs, is a pain is of a sort that he remembers all too well.

He knows that this is what’s awaiting him. When all his cells have been depleted of oxygen, and when his body will finally stop working all together: there will be no calm. There will be an eternal struggle waiting for him, pain and torture, and -

And now there's lips on his. It makes no sense, but when Sam opens his eyes, he finds there’s an actual, soft mouth on his. Castiel’s face is pressed to his in what can only be described as... Sam’s trying to find a good explanation, but he’s coming up short. What is this supposed to be, a goodbye kiss? This is insane. He's drowning for God's sake. He knows Castiel well enough. Castiel can be socially awkward, still after all these years. He tends to act in ways that you wouldn't expect of a normal person. But a semi-death kiss still seems out of character.

Castiel opens his lips slightly, nudging Sam to do the same. If this were to happen on any other day. One where Sam’s mind was working, he wouldn’t have let it go on this long. But right now, all he can do is trust that Castiel knows what he’s doing. Even if this is just Castiel’s awkward way of showing affection to a dying friend. Sam realizes he’d fine with this. Despite the whole drowning aspect of it, in a way, it is a good kiss. Tender and urgent, and if nothing else, the shock of it distracts Sam from the thought of his imminent death.

Then it hits Sam. It’s the second epiphany related to Castiel’s lips tonight.

The water ceases coming in through his nose, and it stops filling his lungs. Sam can breathe again.

And - oh, if the situation were any different, he'd be bright red now. He’s misconstrued Castiel’s help as some sort of last hurrah. Maybe even a declaration of some buried, unspoken emotional- Nevermind!

Castiel's lips are still pressed to his, but this is not a kiss, Sam knows now. It’s functional. He's giving him a weird sort of mouth-to-mouth, while they're staring at each other through the murky water.

Castiel looks different, blurry both from the water and from the proximity. Despite the shame, Sam finds himself wanting to touch his friend’s hair. It looks almost feathery floating in the water next to Castiel's even face.

Sam figures he's still a bit oxygen-deprived. Why else would be thinking about Castiel’s soft features and his blue eyes. He needs to think about how to get out of the freaking room. Not get lost in the disappointment of losing what he thought he had for a moment there. Especially when it’s news to him that this is something he’d want it in the first place.

Sam appreciates being able to breathe again, he really does. But now that his brain lets him do some thinking again, he also realizes that this isn’t a way out. They can't stand here forever, kissing/not-kissing. Sam is still glued to this pipe, not any closer to a real rescue.

Without breaking the kiss, Sam looks up through the murkiness. He’s tying to see if the water has reached the ceiling yet. Once the room is all filled up, is the door going to blast upon. Is the burst going to let the water escape into the hall or is the pressure too much. Are the walls going to cave in and crumble down all around them, effectively burying them alive.

Well, burying him alive. Because Castiel could still get out of here in time.

Sam wishes he could talk to him. If they could discuss the situation, maybe they'd a solution together.

There's also the thing about him being magically bound. If this place collapses, no amount of mouth-sealing is going to keep him alive. Unless Castiel can keep up the wall Superman-style with his force alone. Which, actually, now that Sam considers it, doesn’t sound impossible. Sam's never been fully clear on what angel powers entail and what not. His physical abilities are hard to gauge, but Sam’s often been surprised by how much a single angel can do. Especially Castiel.

The fact of the matter is, that as long as Castiel is this close and locking lips with him, he’s can't do anything else to get them out of here. They need someone else.

"Dean?" Sam tries to ask. It feels strange. Asking means moving his lips against Cas’ and opening his mouth. In the futile attempt to communicate, Sam’s tongue brushes against Castiel’s.

Sam quickly closes his mouth, when Castiel draws back his head. He seems shocked as he studies Sam’s face. Or he's only attempting to figure out what Sam is doing.

Trying to ask Castiel about Dean's whereabouts doesn't just feel strange, it's also a pointless endeavour. Of course, Castiel doesn’t need a reminder. He must have already been asking himself, what could be taking Dean so long. Why he hasn’t figured out the right trail to this place yet. They must both be wondering about Dean. If he's been caught by witches and if he got hurt. Or worse, if he's dead.

Castiel presses his soft, wet lips against Sam's again. Sam can feel Castiel not only breathe in the air, but slurp up the used air, too. He's taking Sam's carbon dioxide and turning it into oxygen like he's goddamn tree or something. Sam will definitely have to ask him about the mechanics of this later. In case they're ever going to get out of here.

Castiel draws back again and puts up his hand. His mouth form words, that might be "Five minutes" and "Dean", "Don’t worry" and "Wait for me". Or maybe he's just reading a Dallas phonebook from the 90s to him and Sam just hears what he wants to hear. Because once Castiel's gone - vanished into thin air with a flutter of wings– there's again nothing left for Sam to do but to try not to panic.

He's pretty sure he's not purposefully being abandoned, but somehow it feels like it. It sure feels lost, once Castiel’s not there to keep him safe. Sam has never in his life felt so devastated after a kiss has ended. He’s never felt a need so strong to feel someone’s lips back on his. No amount of passion or love can compete with the sheer need to survive. Sam doesn’t even care that his whole future lies in someone else's hands and on his lips. Sam just needs him to return. Now.

He tries to remember how long people can survive without breathing. He wonders if Cas knows. Whether he’s calculated the right amount of time he can be gone safely, before Sam dies. Five minutes sounds too long to go without air. Is he going to die from the lack of oxygen or the water in his body?

As the waters starts seeping into his lungs again, the spluttering starts up too. Everything is salt water now. He tries to look up again, but there's nothing to look up to. There's no ceiling, no nothing, only water and his own body. The sound of a bubbling death rattle, his legs pointlessly kicking the water. He's starting to go. 

His second to last thought is how pissed Dean is going to be at Cas, when Sam dies.

His last thought isn't much of a thought. It's the image of Castiel, wrapped around him, kissing him back to safety.

 

\- 

 

"Jesus! Finally!"

He wakes up with Dean's face over his, and a hand on his cheek that might have been stroking him or slapping him awake. Either way, Dean draws it back quickly.

The green eyes above him start to lose most of their worry. The expression on Dean's face can now best be described as cautiously relieved.

"You okay?" Dean asks, like Sam stumbled and scrapped his knee, and not like he almost drowned.

Almost being the keyword. He’s apparently alive and unharmed. 

Sam sits up on the bed, inches back towards the headboard and for the first time realizes he's in a motel room. Of course he's in a motel room and not a hospital.

"I'm okay. What happened?" Sam's voice sounds creaky to his own ears, and not quite like himself.

"Well, Cas calculated he'd have enough time to find and fetch me, before you'd be ready to croak. And turns out he was right. It was a tough call, you were barely hanging on."

Dean shrugs like it's no big deal, but the tenseness in his body tells a whole other story.

"Cas brought you to the warehouse?" Sam asks.

"Yup."

"But how-"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "The spell? By the time we got to you, I'd already ganked the bitch. Apparently that broke the whole thing."

"Oh."

Sam rubs two fingers over his forehead. He turns to the other bed, where he can't remember seeing Castiel before. Either Sam’s still not right in his head yet, or Castiel's only just re-appeared.

Castiel looks different all put together, and not… well, dry.

Sam looks away, finding it impossible to look into his friend’s face.

"What about the water?“ he asks his brother instead. "Did it destroy the place? What happened?"

Dean shrugs again. "The door was bolted shut by magic, too. So once the spell was gone, we could just open it and waltz in. The whole thing is flooded now, of course. The only problem was that when we got there, you were already pretty gone by then. Totally oxygen-deprived. That's some dangerous shit."

"Yeah, well, I'll make sure never to try and drown again."

"You better."

Dean clasps Sam's arm, eyes him earnestly. For a moment he looks like he wants to add something else, but thinks better of it.

"You don't have to worry, Sam," Castiel says in a voice that is the same old same old, and yet takes Sam by complete surprise. It seems to resonate differently in Sam’s body than it used to. Which probably just means that Sam’s still not recovered from the shock, because what the hell does that even mean. "You have no lasting damage. My grace already healed you."

"Yeah, uh." Sam shifts his legs on the bed. He pulls one leg up, only to stretch it out on the blanket again. "Thanks for, um, not letting me die."

There's a curious tilt of Castiel's head."Of course. You know I would do anything to not let you die. I’m very glad we got to you in time."

Anything? Is that Castiel's way of explaining the unorthodox breathing technique?

Sam smiles meekly. "That makes two of us."

"Three actually," Dean interjects. He's still by Sam's bedside, now eyeing Castiel intently. "Good thing Sam won’t be needing an iron lung after all.“

"I’m sorry I had to leave you on your own," Castiel tells Sam. "I was hoping you would understand I wasn’t abandoning you.“

"It’s fine," Sam promises. "I admit I worried when you left, but I was sure you had a plan."

"I did. Regardless, I wish I could have stayed with you."

Sam swallows down the "I wish you could have stayed too". He’d say it, if Dean wasn’t perched right next to him on the mattrass.

It’s the truth. Of course, he understand why Castiel had to leave. But he'd preferred if Castiel could have just stayed a little longer. Dean would have killed the witch anyway, the curse would have been broken soon. There’d been no need for Sam to faint. It would have been a nicer ending to this story.

Sam bites his lip. His eyes settle on Castiel’s mouth and he starts wondering. Surely, it wouldn’t be the same now. It couldn't feel as intense if they were to kiss again.

No, Sam corrects himself, they never _kissed_. They shared a breath, their bodies in a practical biological unison Sam hadn’t known before. It’s that special kind of intimacy and the entailed urgency, that Sam is longing for now.

Castiel’s lips look soft and inviting. Sam can’t deny that, despite the foolishness of it all, he’d still like to try. The weird feeling in his stomach as he’s studying Castiel’s face, is most likely just the lingering confusion from the near death experience. But what if it isn’t? What if, nothing else, it would feel nice to kiss his friend without death breathing down his neck. Sam’s whole body seems to be tingling at the idea. Even if his mind is not fully made up, the rest of him clearly his. 

Dean frowns and turns his gaze from Castiel to Sam and back. "You guys are being weird. Something happen I need to know?"

It's an innocuous question, because there's no way Dean would be half as calm if he knew where Sam's mind went. 

Sam can feel the heat in his cheek rise up and he knows Dean sees it, too. Thankfully, Dean lets it slide for now. "Well, whatever it is. I’m just glad you're okay now, Sammy.“

Sam forces out a smile and sits up, pushing his legs out of the bed until he comes to sit next to Dean.

Dean pats Sam’s arm, as if he’s making sure he’s really okay, and then turns his body towards Castiel on the other bed. “Are you going to stick around for a while?"

Sam's not sure if the angel is apt enough at interpreting Dean's voice to hear the hint of need in it. Sam doesn’t just notice it, its existence also bothers him. In a way it never has before.

"No." Castiel stands up. "I have something urgent to take care of. I could only make an exception because your lives were in imminent danger."

Dean's head dips in obvious disappointment. "Oh, yeah, sure."

"I'll return as soon as I can,“ Castiel promises. The intimate smile he and Dean share makes Sam feel even funnier.

Before Castiel leaves, he turns his attention to Sam.

This time Sam can't help but look directly into his face, mirroring his gaze.

"If you need any more help before I return, let me know," Castiel tells him. "Anything, Sam."

As Dean seems to be choking down some words, Sam finds himself nodding. Even though he has no idea what Castiel could mean. What could Castiel possible need to take care of. Something urgent enough for him to leave now, but that he’d interrupt for Sam’s needs? 

“Uh, ok. Thanks, Cas. Sure. I will."

Castiel touches his forearm, a soft smile spreading over his face, as he leans in ever so slightly. It would be so easy to wrap a hand around Castiel’s delicate nape and pull him closer. 

Sam smiles, dizzily, wishing they’d be alone right now. Simultaneously fearing the next time he’ll have to face Castiel. 

"Take care, Sam," Castiel says, in a firm voice. He presses Sam’s arm a single time and disappears without another word. 

Sam can feel Dean's burning gaze on him long before he actually looks up to catch it. 

"What in God's name was that all about?" Dean gestures at his own empty bed, where Castiel still sat moments ago. 

"What do you mean?" 

"What was Cas talking about? You needing help? Is he worried you're about to drown again?" Dean asks sarcastically. 

Sam shrugs. 

Dean furrows his brow. "No, seriously. What happened? Why were you guys being so intense?“ 

"I, uh- I don’t know.“

"You don’t know."

It doesn’t feel good to lie to Dean, especially when his brother knows something’s up. But there’s no way Sam can explain the situation to him. It’s embarrassing and confusing. Even in the best of circumstances, it’d be difficult to enough to explain. How would he sum up the onslaught of feelings caused by Castiel’s method of rescue.

_"Cas did some mouth-to-mouth angel magic to save my life, and despite the horror of the situation, it felt kind of nice? Anyway, I was thinking what if it were to happen again? Maybe above ground this time? You think there’s a slight chance Cas might have been into it, too?“_  

Explaining anything like this would be a bad idea if Dean were in the best mood ever. It’d be a downright disaster the way Dean is right now. 

Sam shrugs again. "Well, you know Cas…" 

Dean gets up from the bed, his body a single tense line. He grabs the gun on the bedside table. "Yeah, I know Cas." 

They don’t stay in the motel room for much longer. Soon, they’re sitting in the Impala, no more mention of Castiel.  

"You and that melon of yours ready for a new case?" Dean asks, trying to sound upbeat. There's no reason for Sam not to be. It's not the first time he came close to dying, and it won’t be last.  

He knows it’s not the case that's unsettled him so much. It’s nothing to do with witches and drowning. And everything to do with not-drowning and breathing. Breathing together.  

Sam is kinda, almost, fine with discovering feelings he didn't know he had. It's a bit irritating to realize he might not have been totally open with himself before. But attraction and having a crush is one thing (A crush on your best friend? Really?), acting on it would be a whole other thing. 

Sam will just have to let it go. There’s no room in his life for any more unnecessary drama. He isn’t going to jeopardize the most important relationships in his life out of curiosity and a "What if?" 

"Yeah," Sam says, leaning back into his seat. "I'm definitely ready to leave this shitty place behind me.“

"Me too. God, I hate witches," Dean mumbles, his face grim, as he turns up the volume of the car stereo.  

And that is that. 

Except, of course, it’s not. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two months ago, after reading this [prompt](https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/147309.html?thread=46226797#t46226797). I meant to make this multi-chaptered but didn't like how the next chapter went and abandoned the idea. Since I did like what I originally wrote, I decided to upload it as OS instead of just letting it collect dust on my hard drive. But if you were wondering, that's why the ending might seem a bit unfinished/open. 
> 
> Also, someone else wrote [a really cute story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710617) to this, clearly awesome, prompt. So if you haven't read that one, you should do so.


End file.
